


an emotion by no other tone

by TrainRush



Category: A Hat in Time (Video Game)
Genre: Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Light Angst, Mental Health Issues, Pre-Canon, Rejection, Suicidal Thoughts, Violent Thoughts, in which i give cond a fat case of RSD, mental fuckin illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28220493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrainRush/pseuds/TrainRush
Summary: Even though he knew it wasn’t, the Conductor felt as though everything lay crumbled at his feet.—(or, alternatively, I give the Conductor some rejection sensitive dysphoria because shhh I’m projecting)
Relationships: The Conductor & DJ Grooves (A Hat in Time)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	an emotion by no other tone

**Author's Note:**

> sup. miss me?
> 
> sorry that this is what i come back from an 8 month hiatus with lol. i’ve been more active on my other AO3, @danganronpa69, if you want to check out the fics over there. i know the fandom’s a little obscure and not for everyone but hey cond is still getting tortured so the sun still rises
> 
> sorry again but yeah this is a vent fic
> 
> if the “grooves” in this fic sees this, this is my way of saying sorry (again) lol
> 
> i will be resuming where i left off and coming out with more ahit fics soon! for now, i hope you enjoy this for what it’s worth

It was a hellish feeling, to say the least.

The Conductor first felt it grow on his heart like mold as he walked away from Grooves’s side of the studio, where it continued to spread and suffocate him so tightly that when he finally reached the door to his office, the colors of the studio basement blurred together and made him feel nauseous. And now, as he sat at his desk with his laptop open in front of him, he found that none of the words on his screen seemed to make sense to him.

He couldn’t focus. Every one of his thoughts ended up drifting back to that stupid pecking argument he and Grooves had just had.

It wasn’t even so much an argument as it was a slight scuffle. Grooves had used one of the Conductor’s props in his first movie that year — something they’d agreed between themselves they wouldn’t do. But what made matters worse was that the Conductor had made the specific prop entirely from scratch, meaning he was directly profiting off of the Conductor’s own hard work. 

He felt betrayed. Grooves had even watched him work on it, for peck’s sake. He must've known it was his. Then why’d he use it? Why’d he exploit his hard work like that?

Knowing all of this only added fuel to the Conductor’s righteous anger, and he sent the former several upset emails before deciding he’d deal with the matter in the morning. He hadn’t thought much of it. He hadn’t thought he was overreacting. Was he? Maybe he should have sent one or two less messages, but that wasn’t too bad. He was sure Grooves would understand.

...He wasn’t sure what it was specifically that brought him into this hellish state. The Conductor had honestly thought he was ready to confront Grooves the next morning. His confidence was instantly shattered when the two stood face to face, though. Maybe it was how he was only met with a dead, cold stare when he tried looking him in the eye. How where carefree happiness once was, there was only stone cold seriousness. Maybe it was how Grooves had worded what he’d said to the Conductor. How every syllable seemed to feel as though it were laced with cyanide. Maybe it was how he spoke his words, almost spitting them at the Conductor.

His point got across, sure — there was a prop mix up, and he was sorry about it. The Conductor even forgave him. But the way that those words plagued his mind was unshakable.

He knew that most people didn’t feel this way after simple confrontations. Most people forgive and forget. Most people don’t sit and dissociate, analyzing every last word and syllable spoken. Most people would be able to go about their lives just as usual after a simple argument or scuffle. Most people don’t find themselves wanting to jab a knife through their skull as if that would alleviate some of the pain.

Most people can bear it when they understand that someone is upset with them.

That had never been the case for the Conductor. He’d always felt this way at any sign of anger or rejection. Especially from people close to him, like Grooves, and from people he respected, like most movie critics. The critics were why he made his movies as close to perfection as he could get them, and Grooves was why he tried not to get annoyed when the latter blasted his music from the other side of the studio. Grooves was a nice man and did a lot for him, and the Conductor didn’t want to ruin that friendship he had with him.

Maybe that was why right now, the Conductor wanted to be any place else in the world than where he was, sitting and dissociating in his office.

Had he just ruined everything?

No, that was impossible; he and Grooves had been friends since the studio first opened way back when. It would be impossible to ruin something so quickly.

But Grooves was clearly upset.

...Or was he? Was the Conductor being overly dramatic again? Was he exaggerating his emotions like he always did? Was he looking too deep into this?

The longer the Conductor sat on his thoughts, the more he wanted to scream. The more he wanted to drive a knife into his stomach. The more he wanted to bash his skull open.

His hand found the mug of lukewarm coffee on his desk and hesitantly, he took a sip.

Maybe he could go confront Grooves again and apologize? …No, the latter probably didn’t want to see his face for a long time after that.

The Conductor set the mug back down on his desk and stared into it, where just a little bit of coffee remained.

...Maybe Grooves just hated him.

No, that was silly. Why would he turn around and hate him so suddenly?

...But it sure felt like it.

The Conductor winced. ‘Hellish’ really was the best descriptor.


End file.
